


Let Me Be Your Star (from FF.net)

by Life_sans_Sin



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb/Sgrub Sessions, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, M/M, One-sided flushed Sollux/Karkat, Other, Pale to flushed Gamzee/Karkat, Palebros Sollux/Karkat, Sadstuck, Self-Harm, Self-Hatred
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-05-25
Updated: 2018-05-25
Packaged: 2019-05-13 12:22:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 4,680
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14748782
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Life_sans_Sin/pseuds/Life_sans_Sin
Summary: He looked down at his hand, knuckles now cracked and bleeding, and he gave a weary smile. 'At least this way I'm only hurting myself...'( Afraid of hurting the people he cares about most, Gamzee decides to lock himself away in order to protect his friends. )[[ THIS IS MY FIC. I AM THE WRITER ON xXCherryxSweetxTemptationsXx on Fanfiction.net THAT WROTE THIS. I AM NOT STEALING THIS FIC AND POSTING IT HERE. IT IS MINE. ]]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> So. Okay. This is a fic I originally published in 2012. I've had someone on there back in 2015 say that they wanted to see this continued. So now, three years later, I've decided that I'm gonna do it. Eventually, some how, some way, I'm gonna finish this task I took on six years ago.
> 
> My writing has changed a lot since I wrote this last, so if there's a noticeable difference between the first three chapters and the rest, then I'm sorry/not sorry.

It was dark.

As though every single bit of light had absconded from his hive, shadows spread from every single darkened corner of the room, overtaking his once bright and cheerful living space. The power was out- at least, that's how it would appear. In truth, the light fixtures had all been broken. The shattered remains of light bulbs lay scattered across the floors in every single room, littering the carpet with the glittering shards, when there was sunlight to shine upon them. But clouds overtook the sky, and thunder in the distance promised rain, the sky lightened for only a few instances by a flash of lightning. It cut across the sky like a white knife slitting grey flesh, revealing for that instant the navy blue sky beyond the clouds.

It reminded him of his friend, Equius. The memory made him cringe, and he turned away from the window, shattered outwards by a juggling club weeks before. He shivered as the breeze's icy cold tendrils brushed past his skin and into his hive, allowing themself entry when he had not granted it. The thought angered him, and he drew his fist back turning on the window with a glare, then stopped. He lowered his shaking fist and sighed, turning on his heel and walking away. Powerful as he was, there was no way he could ever defeat the wind.

He slowly made his way through the empty halls and corridors of his hive, looking around at all of the miraculous artwork he'd decorated the space with. Purple "paint" littered the walls, clown faces and 'honks' written on every available surface. Sticking out of the walls were knives or other such sharp objects, where he had thrown them in a fit of fury. Looking at them now only brought shame, and regret. And guilt.

So much motherfucking guilt.

One spot in particular he would forever avoid. The front entryway to his hive. Steeling his nerve, he forced his feet to move in that direction, down the hallway that he knew led there. Halfway there, though, he stopped. He was close enough to see it. He didn't need to get any closer.

The spots of brown blood on the welcome mat.

"Tavros..." a voice whispered, dull and empty-sounding, coming from a face with no expression. Like a blank mask. Or... no. The mask was gone, for the moment. That's why it was so expressionless. So empty. A choked sound escaped his throat, and he stumbled into the nutrition block, over to the sink. His nutrition sac heaved and his throat lurched as he retched, but nothing came of it. Nothing had for the past week. He had long lost the desire to eat anything, since all it usually resulted in was making him sick anyhow. Shakily, he ran water through the sink, washing away something that was never there in the first place, and made his way up the stairs. His respite block had an attached hygiene block, which he made sure to use on a daily basis, at least. It wasn't that he ever went out and got that dirty, or that he gave a shit about his personal hygiene at this point. You don't tend to care about things like that when you're not bothering to eat or drink.

He did so because he felt compelled to wash the blood away.

It wasn't as though there was really anything there. His hands were the same grey as they had always been, perfectly clean. Whenever he looked down at them, though, he saw differently. Coated in a rainbow of hues, his fingers felt slick with blood, the substance dripping half-congealed from his palms. Whenever he looked at his reflection, he saw the same. Blood pouring from his eyes and ears, and dripping from his fangs. It wasn't real, but to him it was. This was the reality he'd grown accustomed to.

He peeled off his shirt, growling as they came un-stuck from cuts and wounds along his torso, tearing off the scabbed-over skin and making them bleed anew. They went ignored, though, as did the ones on his legs when his pants came off, next. Both were dropped onto the floor, forgotten, as he stepped into the abulation trap. The water was turned on, and he hissed as the first sprays of cold water hit his flesh. It took only a few moments before it began to warm, and soon enough the water was spraying out at near-scalding temperatures. It burned in his wounds, and he watched as the streams of purple were washed away, vanishing into the drain beneath his feet.  _'So much blood...'_  His head spun, and he had to brace himself against the tile wall as he retched again, eyes and throat burning as what little stomach acid he felt he had left came up.

He was dying. And that was perfectly okay with him.

He took up a washrag and scrubbed at his skin until it was raw and bleeding, soap burning in the open cuts and making his eyes water. He felt a sob working up out of his throat, and he sent his fist into the tile wall of the shower. He didn't deserve to cry, so he didn't allow himself to.

Not after what he'd done- or, nearly done.

Nearly half a sweep now, since he'd locked himself away in isolation. Half a sweep since he had nearly killed his own matesprit. Half a sweep since he had allowed himself any contact with anybody. Half a sweep since he had hurt anyone else. He looked down at his hand, knuckles now cracked and bleeding, and he gave a weary smile. _'At least this way I'm only hurting myself...'_  He didn't know when it had happened, but he soon found himself leaning against the wall for support, legs shaking. The pain had become nearly too much to bear, and that was when it was time to get out. The water was shut off, and he stumbled out to wrap a towel around his waist. He ignored the drops of water and blood lingering behind him as he headed up to his respite block, ignored the pain as he pulled on a clean pair of pants. The last pair he had that weren't caked in dried blood, or torn to shreds. He tied the drawstring of the black and purple polka-dot pajama bottoms and noticed that he'd gotten smaller. His ribs and hip bones were visible to a degree, but his blood made sure he was still strong. Even like this, he could still be a threat to somebody.

So he submit himself to his own hell, toiling away the days until his death in the confines of isolation within his own hive. As much as he wanted to be able to scream, and apologize, and cry for the things he'd done, that wouldn't fix anything. "Not a damn thing..." he murmured, before he collapsed onto the floor, lying on his back to stare up at the ceiling. It was painted to resemble the night sky, stars dotting the dark blue canvas. Maybe it was delusional, but he could have sworn he saw them shining. A soft glow of hope in the darkness of the night sky.  _'Wonder where my motherfuckin' star is...'_  he mused, before chuckling bitterly, and closing his eyes. If he were lucky, then he wouldn't reopen them. But he knew better than to expect that. The scars along his arms and littering his torso were proof that he didn't die easily. In his unconsciousness, a single, purple-tinted droplet fell from his closed eyes and traced down his cheek. A flash of lightning illuminated his broken frame, and as promised, the rain began to fall outside, drowning out his moans of pain and anguish in his sleep-filled state.


	2. Chapter 2

' _Where am I…?_ ' Darkness swirled around him like ebony waves, lapping at his weakened frame and bringing with it a sheer coolness. It chilled him to the bone, going even so far as to put a layer of ice over his soul. At least, that was how it felt. For the longest time, though, everything was just… how it  _felt_. There was no logic; no reason; no rhyme. Time no longer made any sense to him. It was as if the calendar had been completely ripped off the wall and recreated anew. Every passing second, moment, day… everything rotated of off a single point in his memory. One tiny, single point of light on the night sky above, yet his  _entire universe_  rotated on its axis.

He had been sober for a long time now. Far,  _far_  too long. He had long since forgotten how sopor tasted. It was a fading memory to him now, how the tingling, numbing sensation felt on his tongue, before it slowly numbed his mind to the voices, and the thoughts.

The  _rage_.

Every time he'd have a thought about the 'ungrateful peasant-blooded motherfuckers', he would eat a handful of the toxic slime, wanting it to cover up those thoughts, and the violent impulses they brought. It worked… for a little while. But on the meteor, they had a limited supply, and he quickly ran through it within a short while. So much rage had been felt, he couldn't even begin to remember specific instances. There was just anger… and pain.

' _Why am I here…?_ '

The cold had completely engulfed him, and he shivered violently, clutching at his biceps and curling in on himself in hopes of salvaging at least some body heat.

' _Why is it so dark? Why is it so cold? Where am I…?_ ' He couldn't see; couldn't hear; couldn't breathe, couldn't feel anything except for the chill invading his body from some unknown source. ' _I wonder if… I'm finally dying…'_  The thought brought an odd sort of comfort, and hope. He wouldn't be capable of hurting anyone else, ever again.  _Never_. He would never, ever,  _ever_  have to see that look of fear in anyone's eyes. He would never have to worry about snapping and killing someone. He wouldn't have to be afraid of himself anymore.

A relieved but anguished grin pulled at his lips, and he could feel tears pouring down his cheeks from his eyes.

… At least, what he thought were tears.

He wiped at his cheeks and found his fingers coated in not translucent purple, but blood.  _Brown_  blood. His hands trembled and he shot upright, backing away as if he were backing from a dangerous creature. He stared down at his quaking hands with wide indigo eyes, stumbling to his feet and turning to find himself in his hygiene block. Confusion only took hold of him for an instant before he reached for the faucet on the sink, turning both knobs until they wouldn't turn anymore. The water came out in hot spurts, and he shoved his hands under the scalding spray, wanting nothing more than to wash away the blood on his hands. He closed his eyes as he felt the slickness fade away.

He instantly wished he hadn't.

When he opened his eyes again, he found himself washing his hands in even more rust-colored blood, half-congealed and sticking to his fingers. A gag worked its way up his throat, but he forced it down, resulting in a choked sob echoing throughout the space around him. ' _Why…?'_  He staggered away from the sink and down the never-ending hallway, watching in despair as it stretched endlessly before him. No matter how far he ran forward, or backward, he couldn't escape. The spots of brown blood on the welcome mat taunted him, and even more blood dripped down the walls, forming a wave that washed over him.

He screamed and fought for air, only to inhale a breath full of blood. It choked him and coagulated in his lungs, and he collapsed to the floor in a heap, gasping for air that wouldn't come.

This was what he deserved.

This was his price.

He brought this on himself.

' _Why can't I just fuckin' **die**?!_ ' He sobbed silently, unable to make any sound besides that. Purple-tinted tears streaked through the mud-colored blood coating his face, and he whimpered in pain and in fear and in sorrow. ' _Tavros…'_

Then, everything was gone. The cold, the blood, everything. Indigo and yellow eyes opened wide in terror for an instant, and he found himself looking up at a flat, blue sky. ' _What…?_ ' He forced himself to sit and looked down at the ground beneath him. Soft grains of sand cradled him as he'd slept. It got in his wounds and grit against the sensitive flesh and muscle, but he could barely feel it. The only pain he could feel was internally, in his thinkpan and in his vascular pump. ' _Guess I'm still alive…'_  he thought bitterly, sighing as he forced himself to his feet. His legs were a bit shaky at first, but he quickly regained his footing in the sand and stood, surveying the area. He recognized it, but it was a faint memory, and he had trouble placing exactly where he knew it from.

That is, until he turned around.

He brushed the sand from his pants and turned, holding a hand above his brow to shield his eyes from the sun's harsh, bright rays. When his eyes finally adjusted to the light, though, he froze at what he found. With soulless white eyes being the only difference, there stood someone so familiar yet so foreign that he almost couldn't quite say his name.

"… Tav…ros?" Incredulously, he stumbled a step backward, his foot sinking into the sand. There was no way. This couldn't really be Tavros, could it? He shook his head and blinked, thinking maybe it was just a trick his vision was playing on him. When the troll standing before him didn't fade into mirage, though, he gave a short laugh that sounded more like a sob and fell to his knees. His hands clenched into fists in the soft grains of sand and he trembled.

So many times, he had had dreams about the Taurus. They were not good dreams. Horror terrors worse than anything he had ever seen before, not because of the amount of blood in them, but of the sheer gulit he always had when he woke from them. Dreams of Tavros blaming him, screaming at him that it was all his fucking fault, that he deserved to die instead of him. Gamzee always agreed. There was no way he could argue it since he believed the very same. Still, to see him standing before him now, Gamzee was... afraid. He didn't want to feel like this anymore, didn't want to feel anything anymore. He just... wanted to be done. Maybe if he did things right in his dreams, then the mirthful messiahs would take pity on him and let him fade away into the peace death would surely bring.

"What the fuck do you think you're doing?"

Gamzee's head snapped up so quickly he feared his neck may have broken. That voice... it was so familiar, but who...? The harshness in its tone made it sound like it was shouting at him, even though its volume suggested otherwise. He knew this voice, from what felt like so long ago, but who could it belong to...? Who would possibly come to this place in search of him? He slowly turned his head to look behind him and felt the muscles in his vascular pump seize up, as if trying to stop its regular, continual beat.

A small figure, clothed in a sweater that was just a little too loose, making him look even smaller than he already was, stood straight and tall. The corners of his mouth turned down into a sneer that almost seemed permanent, exposing the uneven points of his fangs. The somewhat messy mop of black hair seemed amazingly untouched, giving the impression that he was not actually there at all. He was nothing more than an illusion, or so the Capricorn began to think, but it all seemed so familiar. The smooth, nubby horns nestled in that mess of hair reminded him of someone dear to him, and he was almost carried back to a time when he imagined how those horns would feel beneath his touch. 'No. That time is gone.'

"Karkat..." The highblooded troll swallowed thickly and lowered his gaze back to the sand at the other's feet. It was painful, seeing him here now. Even if it was only an illusion, a trick being played on him by his tired thinkpan, it still brought an uncomfortable sting to his chest. The figure before him scoffed and crossed his arms over the grey Cancer symbol on his sweater.

"Who the ever-loving fuck else would be here right now? Congratulations, you remembered my fucking name. Color me fucking impressed," he grumbled, shaking his head. "You didn't answer my question. What are you even fucking doing here?"

'What am I doing here...?' The question was surprisingly difficult, despite how simple it was. He didn't know why he was here, or where he was, even... though, he couldn't really say he cared anymore, either.

"Just waitin' to die, I guess." The answer came out so easily that it was almost surprising. The Capricorn didn't feel the pained smile spread across his lips, but the other apparantly saw it. Karkat- or, the illusion of Karkat, or whatever this was- growled and stepped forward. The illusionary hand drew back, and -

Whack!

...Hands that weren't really there shouldn't be able to hurt that badly, right? Gamzee's hand reflexively reached up to rub at the now sore spot on the back of his head, weary purple eyes slowly raising to meet the narrowed crimson of the other.

"You  _what?"_  he hissed, eyes narrowing until they were nearly slits, and his smaller hands roughly grabbed the Capricorn's shoulders. "What kind of fucking answer is that?! Of all the dumbassed things for you to say, that had to be on the very top of the fucking list of  _Stupid Clowny Bullshit Answers_!" Gamzee's eyes widened at how real it all felt. This was just a dream, right? None of this could be real. Why did the other's hands feel so solid on his shoulders? Why were the claws so sharply cutting into already battered and abused flesh?

"So what, you've just fucking given up?! Fuck that shit! You can forget about that right fucking here, and right fucking now!"

"Kar-"

"What, did you think that you were just going to go hide like a fucking wriggler because some bad shit went down? Well news flash- no dumbfuck moirail of mine is going to hide away until the day he fucking dies if I have anything to say about it!"

'... oh.'

Widened hues of purple stared incredulously, disbelieving, up at the Cancer. Even as the hands on his shoulders began to shake, and his purple blood began to spill down over his arms, he didn't move; he couldn't. His entire body felt numb, save for his thinkpan and blood pusher, and he was fairly certain that if he tried to move, then he would only succeed in falling over. He was overcome by a multitude of things in that moment, but for once, guilt was no longer in the forefront. Rather, it had decided to step back, like a generous actor, allowing someone else to take the stage, stand in the spotlight. A small ball of warmth began to manifest itself in his chest, like a tiny little candle had been lit, giving off a small but undeniable ray of light.

Cherry-tinted raindrops caught his attention. He tilted his head slightly to one side, almost curiously, before he struggled to get to his feet- or, he thought he would have struggled. It took hardly any effort at all, as if his weakness and his pain had simply vanished. Cautiously, he raised a hand and cupped the other's cheek, trying to ignore how badly Karkat flinched when Gamzee touched him. His thumb swiped gently underneath his eye, erasing the watery tracks left on slightly flushed skin. The world around him was beginning to grow fuzzy, and he knew that soon, he would wake up, and this would be gone again. With the first real smile he'd had on his face in nearly a sweep, the taller troll wrapped his arms around his dream-moirail's waist and pulled him close, resting his forehead against the other's.

"I'm sorry."


	3. Chapter 3

\- - twinArmageddons [TA] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] at 20:38 - -

TA: kk

TA: kk ii know youre there

TA: get the fuck out of your 2tupiid romcom2 and an2wer me dammiit

TA: or whatever the fuck iit ii2 youre doing

TA: ii 2wear ii wiill blow up your hu2ktop agaiin iif you dont an2wer me wiithiin the next ten 2econd2

TA: … 2eriiou2ly kk

TA: plea2e?

TA: 2ee iive re2orted two a2kiing nicely and that2 fuckiing 2tupiid

TA: look what happened two gz wa2nt your fault none of iit wa2

TA: you cant keep takiing the blame liike thii2

TA: what happened wa2 out of everyone2 control iit wa2nt anyone2 fault

TA: we cant even really 2ay iit wa2 gz2 fault

TA: ... kk plea2e an2wer me

TA: were all worriied about you

TA: for the la2t two week2 youve locked your2elf up and refu2ed two come out for anythiing

TA: ...

TA: ii hope youll come two your fuckiing 2en2e2 2oon and come back

TA: were waiitiing for you

TA: both of you

\- - twinArmageddons [TA] ceased trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG] - -

* * *

The little blips of sound from the husktop resting opened on the desk seemed to ring out loudly in the silent room. There was no trace of light in the room save that coming from the screen, night having fully fallen in the world outside. Even when you were lost in despair, the world always kept moving around you. Always moving. Never ceasing. Forever endless. Why did time have to be so consistent in its flow? Why couldn't it just stand still, if only for a moment? In its current, happy moments were swept to the past. 'Dammit...'

Cherry-tinted tears trailed down pale grey cheeks, rolling down the gentle slope of his cheek before reaching his chin, where it fell to vanish in the thick, black fabric of his turtleneck below. "Gog dammit..." A wavering voice cut through the silence, and its owner couldn't help the small sob that escaped his raw, sore throat. "G-Gamzee... Dammit, you  ** _fucking_**   ** _idiot_**!" The husktop was shoved violently from its resting place on the desk, clattering loudly to the floor. Its screen flickered briefly before it faded into nothing, the shadows receding as darkness fully engulfed the room and its only occupant.

It was fitting, how quickly the room darkened. It now matched the state of his mind and heart.

It had been far too long since he had seen anyone. Nepeta, Kanaya, Terezi, Tavros... even his moirail, Sollux. The Gemini had been against him leaving from the very start, wanting the Cancer to stay with him in his hive. Two occupants were better than one, of course, fitting in perfectly with his theme of duality. The thought brought a bitter smile to Karkat's face, and the tears making tracks down his cheeks increase as thoughts of his previous moirail - - of the Capricorn - - brought a sharp pain through his heart.

He had one job.

He had one job, and he couldn't even  _fucking_  do that right.

"Stupid..." The muttered word settled like a thick layer of dust over his respite block, and he wasn't even sure who it was he was talking about anymore- his moirail, or himself.

Why?  **WHY** did he have to wake up?

He had woken up to the incessant beeping of his husktop, and now he sorely wished he had just shut the damn thing off. He would have, had he known he was going to fall asleep, but it had struck him in the middle of a movie unexpectedly. He had dreams of the Capricorn often- mostly either when he's snapped, and killing someone, or already dead himself. This time, though, he had found a strange mixture of the two. Gamzee was known for being capricious, and doing the unexpected, but he never, e _ver_ expected to ever see his moirail trying to kill himself.

Karkat flinched slightly at the thought and scowled at the wall across from him, claws digging into his sleeves.

Sure, it hadn't exactly been the most traditional means of suicide - - like hanging, jumping from a building, or bleeding out - - but he was most definitely trying to die. And the Capricorn's words...

_"What am I doing here?"_

_"Just waitin' to die, I guess..."_

He was fairly certain his vascular pump wasn't supposed to twist in such a painful way. It felt similarly to how he believed having it physically ripped out of your chest would feel like, slowly, the pain building just until you didn't think you could stand anymore, and then, nothing. Numbness. Emptiness. A sharp shake of his head seemed to jostle those thoughts, just enough that something else floated to his thinkpan's surface. The things he'd said to Gamzee - - no, not said. More than that, he had pleaded with his dream's version of the purple-blood; pleaded for him to not give up, to not die. To keep fighting.

Maybe it was time he took his own gogdamn advice...

He had had enough of just sitting around moping. Sure, it was only for two weeks, but even two minutes was too damn long. He was Karkat fucking Vantas, for crying out loud- the Leader of their group. It was his job to keep them together, and keep things running smoothly.

Running his arm across his face to scrub the tears away, he pushed himself up and walked over to his desk, where his phone was lying in wait for its owners use. He picked it up, hit "2" on speed-dial, and held it to his ear as he waited for the contact on the other end to pick up.

...

...

_Click._

_"It'th about time you finally called me back, you athhole."_ The familiar voice brought a small amount of comfort, but Karkat didn't let himself focus on it for too long.

"Yeah yeah, glad to hear you missed me so fucking much. Listen, I broke my husktop-"

_"What? I jutht fickthed that fucking thing a month ago! What the hell did you do to it thith-"_

"Not important!" he said loudly, putting an effective end to the other's questioning. "I need you to put your impressive-but-still-no-better-than-mine hacking skills to decent use for once." Snickering laughter on the other end of the line pulled a small growl from him, and he clenched the phone a little tighter. "Shut up!"

 _"Make me,"_ Sollux teased, before finally seeming to get serious.  _"Tho what am I thuppothed to be hacking, exactly?"_  Karkat fell silent, knowing the questioning that was sure to come once he said exactly what it was he needed done. How would the Gemini take it? He couldn't help but wonder, though the voice on the other end of the line pulled him from his thoughts.  _"KK...? What ith it?"_

"Gamzee's husktop."

Silence.

_"KK-"_

"No. Don't even fucking try to tell me how that's a shitty idea. I have no fucks to give anymore on the matter. Either you hack his fucking husktop so I know what to expect, or I'll just go over there without any idea and be blindsided by what I find!" Laughter from the phone's speaker confused him for a second, and he was about to hang up and give up on the whole endeavor when the mustard-blood finally spoke, voice sounding thoroughly relieved.

_"Good to hear you're back."_

"... Good to be back." A slight curvature of his lips portrayed the tiny, subtle smile that no one else could ever see. Phone in hand, he slipped on his shoes and, with the destination being Sollux's hive, left his own, darkened hive behind him.


End file.
